Dearest Samsung S5600,
I´ve been meaning to tell you all these things, but there never seems to be a right moment. And I don´t want to blurt it all out at an inappropriate time and make the situation all emotionally awkward and shit. So I decided to write you instead.
(Fuck, did I just use a swearword? Right there in the first fucking sentence. Shouldn´t swear in love letters. Stupid. But this is a pen I´m writing with and this here is pretty goddamn expensive paper, and my last sheet of it too. So I really can´t make it go away. I´m sorry about that, I´m so fucking sor
Nevermind. Let´s just pretend these last five lines didn´t happen, ok? Oh, and try to forget that S-word up there too if that´s cool with you.)
Um. So. I´ve been giving a lot of thought to our relationship lately. And I must say you´ve definitely earned your place as my primary communicational device. This may not seem like such a huge deal to you, seeing as my other major means of communication include flatulence, growling, violent dick punches and Facebook. But I need you to understand this: it means much to me. Very, very much.
See, you´re different from my previous phones. I know you´re a brand new model and yeah – I was shy at first but now I can admit it – you ARE my first touchscreen. But that´s not it, not really. It´s more of a manufacturer thing. You see, I´ve been a pretty consistent Nokia man almost all my adult life. I really don´t know why I took a leap in the dark by choosing you as my new phone.
Maybe it´s because I used to have this older Samsung clamshell phone when I was young. It was a short relationship, thanks to a terrible accident involving a large chilli dinner, a toilet bowl and tragically loose trouser pockets. But it left me with some good memories. Maybe those memories sparked my interest in you.
They say first impressions are important, and in your case they certainly were. Before you came along, I always had these chunky Nokias. They worked reliably enough, but if you tried to keep them in your front pocket you always ended up looking like you had a boner painted by Picasso. Looks-wise, your sleek, black design and colourful menus were a drastic change for the better.
Of course – if I´m totally honest with you – I might not have been as impressed at first sight had I known that your slick black shell is almost impossible to get a grip on.
Or that your surface looks and feels like it´s been smeared in butter after every use, no matter how quick the call, no matter how short the SMS, no matter how clean my hands are before touching you.
Or that the combination of the previous two qualities makes you about as easy to handle as a deep-fried bar of soap. One touch and hey presto! “I can´t believe it´s not butter!”
But none of that is your fault. How could your designer have known that people would ever handle you with anything with any grease on it? Like, for example, FINGERS.
I really admire the way you´re in touch with your darker side. Most touchscreen phones are pretty vanilla about how they´re handled, responding mostly to light fingerstrokes. But you, you don´t want none of that “touch me gently with a feathered kitten´s whisker” shit. You play it tough and like it rough.
Never in my life have I met a phone that can take – no, WANTS – so much pressing, begging and pleading. I must say I was a bit uncomfortable about this at first, because my past phones have all been more …traditional in their tastes. The idea of treating a phone this roughly had never even crossed my mind until you came along.
I still remember the dread I felt when I tried to open your phonebook for the first time and realized your touchscreen simply wouldn´t react to anything less than borderline violence. The ten or so seconds I waited for you to finally respond were some of the longest in my life. Then, teasingly and sloooooowly, you opened the application. And I knew I had found my phone.
Your little quirks are what I think I like the most. Like your sense of humour. Remember that time when you suddenly decided that there´s only room for 200 text messages in your memory, sent messages included? Good times!
Or how about the way you seem to take longer and longer every day to open up even the simplest applications?
And I STILL haven´t figured out how you manage to take more time to unlock than my aeons-old computer. (Seriously, stop doing that. Please.)
And the text messaging! Who else but you would even dream of hiding something as simple as the SMS behind no less than five folders? No one, that´s who.
(On a texting related side note, I´m choosing to believe that your SMS dictionary tool is a lovingly elaborate practical joke and not a pre-meditated attempt to make me insane. THAT´S how much I care.)
So, um, yeah. All in all, I´m really, really happy with you and lucky to have you. I know you´re not perfect but hey, nobody is. I most certainly am not. So, I guess what I´m trying to say is:
These months have been good. Or at least interesting.
And even though I may complain about practically having to sacrifice a goat to you every time I want to answer a call or send an SMS, it´s really just for show. I don´t mind.
Best wishes, hugs and kisses